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Not so much "my workplace" but at one of the cafes I worked at, the owner was going through a divorce, and living temporarily in his office out the back. As well as having all sorts of power tools and shit lying around (one time I accidentally knocked over an angle grinder, which turned itself on and started spazzing out all over the concrete floor, spraying sparks everywhere and leaving a huge cut in my shoe), he was also dealing a not-insignificant amount of hard drugs out of that office.
“Restaurant / bar owner going through a divorce” is the start of many a tale about guns, sex, and/or bankruptcy.